What We Once Were
by Very Sincerely Yours
Summary: Season 1, Episode 10- if Logan had been smart it enough to riddle Damon with bullets properly. And of course, Stefan is the one who fills the holes. He finds Damon, because they are brothers, and that is that brothers do.


What We Once Were

~.~

**Believe it or not, this wasn't actually supposed to go this far. I thought, okay Tess, we'll make it short, too the point, and as in character as possible. Then you can write one for when ghost-mason attacks Damon, maybe one for the season one final... Just little ones to keep you going whilst beginning the sequel for mad world...**

**-which is called Lie to Me, and will be up as soon as I get a little further with it-**

**Oh well, nothing ever seems to go exactly to plan.**

**But the last little while has been good. Which only serves to make me suspicious of the next little while. (not that I know for sure I'm gonna get a truckload of work or get in trouble or the like any time soon...)**

**I'd forget it and just make the most of now, but that would be completely boring.**

**And I don't really like boring things.**

**-Tess**

~.~

Three shots, echoing in his ears as pain flashed across the backs of his eyelids. Just three, and his mind screamed in relief, his head and sight clouding even as the ceiling beams above him swayed. Footsteps retreated, further, further. He closed his eyes and listened, afraid to believe himself safe but hoping, desperately hoping that he could soon. When they finally seemed to fade, his foggy mind fell head over heels into the trap. A small, unstoppable sigh slipped from his cracked lips, the sound his attacker had been waiting for.

Before he could let his abused muscles relax there were more shots, far too many to count, especially in his dazed and weakened state. More pain, the feeling of wood ripping his flesh apart. He heard each shot a fraction of a second before each round pierced him and he felt tears sting his eyes, fueled by that emotional torture as well as the agony of the bullets. Nausea twisted his insides, vertigo forced bile up his throat.

When the darkness finally came for him, he slid away without fighting back.

~.~

His phone was buzzing.

It had fallen out of his pocket and was now laying somewhere by his head, shuddering in the way only cellulars did. Damon didn't know why he could hear it, he couldn't hear anything else. He felt like he was floating, the dull thud of pain growing ever more agonizing as the vibration brought him closer to consciousness. He didn't want to wake up, but whoever was on the end of that line had other plans.

So he slid a numb arm towards the sound, to tell whoever it was to shut the hell up. Flashes of white lit up the blackness, crippling jolts that forced him to clench his teeth in an effort to keep his strangled cries at bay. After what felt like eternity, his fumbling fingers found his phone and he forced them to press buttons at random, a few tears slipping free as growls forced their way passed his jaw.

After painful seconds that seemed endless, Damon finally heard the blessed beep that signaled the opening of the line. He wrapped his bloody fingers around the phone and dragged his arm closer, until it rested as close to his ear as he could manage. He was awake now, although he kept his eyes stubbornly closed, afraid to unlock his jaw lest he scream in agony.

Before he could prepare himself, his brother's voice came over the line.

"Damon, where are you?"

Damon opened his mouth to reply and choked. His own gasps filled his ears and a sob caught in his throat. He spent a few minutes trying to collect himself, finally coughing up one broken syllable.

"...Stef?"

There was a pause, Stefan's concern all but radiating out of the phone, and Damon could only struggle to breathe as he waited for the voice to come again.

"What's going on, are you okay?"

He swallowed, panting for air as pain continued to eat him from the inside out. He didn't know what he was trying to say, but he was trying and he couldn't think beyond that.

"I...I don't..."

"Talk to me, Damon! I can't find you here, where are you? Are you hurt?"

This time, Damon could hear the hint of panic from Stefan's voice as well as his own muffled whimpers and cries, the panting for air and broken words that seemed to echo in his ears.

"Can't... Ste-e..."

His voice cracked and he swallowed harshly.

"Okay, okay. Just, tell me where you are, I'll come get you."

And Damon wanted him too, he desperately hoped that Stefan would find him and stop his body from screaming. He tried so hard to think, but he felt himself fading again, the pain the only thing registering. He couldn't remember where he was, only that he was being ripped apart and he couldn't move. That he was actually scared, for the first time in a long time, and the little warning in his head, keep that fear to yourself. Everything else was long gone and he didn't have the strength to fight for it now.

"H-hurts..."

Stefan heard a dull thump across the line, presumably Damon's phone slipping from his fingers and hitting the floor beneath him. He strained his ears and heard his brother's last few gasped words, repeating like a mantra, softer and softer. His stomach twisted, his eyes wide with concern and fear, the metal rail he leaned against crushed by the strength of his clenched fist.

"Please, h-hurts... p-lease..."

And the line went dead.

~.~

Stefan was fuming.

There simply was no other word for it. It was written all over his face, seeping from his actions. The way he smashed the phone in his grip, slammed the door closed. How he pushed Elena aside without an inkling of concern, ignoring her stubborn questions.

In his force as he slammed Logan into the school lockers in front of everyone, hissing dangerously in his ear.

"Where is my brother?"

Logan's initial shock melted into smug amusement as he regarded Stefan, a small, mocking grin settling on his lips. The older vampire growled, but before he could get another word out Liz was pulling him off Logan and dragging them both to an empty classroom, obviously aware of her old friend's secret but not of Stefan's. She closed the door behind them as students and teachers outside began returning to their business before the distraction.

"Hello Liz," Logan began, watching as she tried to get a read on the situation. Stefan growled again and took a step forward, stopped by Liz's hand on his shoulder. He struggled it off.

"The bastard has my brother!"

Stefan charged the vampire again, bringing him to the floor with a number of chairs and tables, blocking off his airways with enough force to break bones. He reached for a wooden chair leg, a little too short and splintered for a stake but still sufficient, and pressed it underneath Logan's ribcage.

"Start talking," he growled, his voice barely a whisper.

It only took a little pressure and Logan was telling him the address of the warehouse, smile never slipping.

"Better be quick."

As badly as Stefan wanted to kill him then, he didn't, standing and backing up instead. He looked at Liz, who seemed to read the urgency in his gaze, and she nodded. He didn't need to be told twice, and rushed out of the door and school, ignoring Elena yet again.

As soon as there was no one in sight he sped off, trusting the darkness to cover his movements.

~.~

Damon was fading in and out of consciousness, as if he were swimming in darkness. His body felt numb and as forcefully as he ordered his limbs to respond, they wouldn't move. His own blood clouded his senses and if he weren't so tired he would have thrown up again. He'd already emptied his stomach and a little more at one point, but it had hurt so much that he'd passed out and done everything he could to avoid the same pain since. He couldn't hear himself breathing but his chest flared in agony every few seconds so he knew that he was. He wanted to stop breathing, being, anything; he couldn't bare to hope anymore. Stefan hadn't come for him and Damon didn't think he ever would.

So when the ware-house doors slammed open and he heard a familiar voice shouting for him, he thought it was just his dazed and foggy head torturing him further. He couldn't stop the tears this time so he cried silently, the salty tracks cutting through the blood that had caked on his cheeks.

The voice didn't fade but he didn't let himself have faith. He was so very afraid of being let down again. He refused to hope, even when he heard quick footsteps advancing on him, the thud of a body falling to it's knees.

His eyes remained stubbornly closed.

When he felt overly-gentle fingers ghost over his cheek he could have sobbed out loud. He may have; he couldn't be completely sure. Temptation was killing him, so he cracked open his eyes, moaning as the world lurched even as he lay immobile.

He definitely heard his own whimper of relief as he found Stefan leaning over him.

And as Stefan pulled him up and hugged him tightly, he couldn't care less about his hatred for his brother. Even the pain was dulled and bearable, he was just so fucking relieved. He didn't know whether it was because he wasn't alone or because this meant that Stefan might not hate him quite so much, if his fear of Logan walking in with another gun wasn't quite so potent when when his brother was there. He refused to think on it. He would do that later... when he was drunk. Yes, that sounded like a plan.

Still, he couldn't help but notice how nice it felt to have his brother's hand tangled protectively in his hair as he was held close to a comforting body, one that wasn't planning on hurting or deceiving him anytime soon.

With that in mind, he let himself sink into Stefan, slowly starting to slip into some form of escape.

When Stefan lowered his head, rubbing part of Damon's cheek clean after simply holding his brother for a handful of long minutes, he was met with dazed eyes. The crystal blue was now glazed over, almost clouded, gazing at him helplessly. They were open, like windows without curtains, leaving Damon vulnerable, blood and tears staining his eyelids. Stefan felt Damon's weak fingers clutch desperately at his shirt, his brother's quiet breathing, painfully broken and shallow.

He pulled Damon closer, one hand pressing his head firmly to his chest, hiding his tears in matted black hair.

"I've got you," Stefan whispered, stroking his brother's face comfortingly.

And Damon fell asleep.

~.~

Stefan didn't move even after he felt Damon slip into unconsciousness, afraid the he would both hurt his brother and lose this little time, the feeling of being able to hold Damon without being pushing away.

He spent what felt like hours with his arms wrapped tightly around his brother, holding him without the slightest inclination to let go.

After a sufficient amount of sitting time, in his mind anyway, Stefan pressed his lips against Damon's forehead. He slowly raised himself so he was standing, bringing the limp figure in his arms with him, and nuzzled his face into Damon's hair as his brother shook, a small offer of comfort and a reminder that he was still safe.

Stefan walked out at a human pace, gently rocking Damon in his arms like a child, his footsteps echoing off the beams and metal walls as his heavily-heeled boots clicked along the concrete. His brother was still shaking, he didn't know whether it was because of the cold night air or Damon's low body heat, a result of blood loss. Vampires were commonly pale but didn't usually fall ill, it was impossible to know how one would react to sickness and fever. They didn't feel the heat or cold however, unless in extreme circumstances, and Stefan was obliged to believe that exhaustion and blood-loss were the reasons for Damon's trembling.

Stefan stopped as he reached the woods, slowly placing Damon on unstable legs, keeping a supportive arm around his waist. He grimaced as his brother moaned softly, sliding off his jacket and smoothly as possible before wrapping it around Damon and pulling him into his arms again, trying to warm him up and fend off the wind.

He leaned in close, smiling when he felt Damon snuggle into him sleepily, and whispered softy in his brother's ear.

"I've got you now."

With that, he was off at lightning speed.

~.~

Stefan kicked open the boarding house's heavy wooden door and made his way inside, Damon still hanging limply in his arms. Shooting up the stairs, he rushed into Damon's bedroom, placing him on the on the bed just as he began to stir. He sat on the edge, brushing dark hair off Damon's face, waiting for him to wake. After a few moments, blue eyes blinked open sluggishly, remaining unfocused even as they rolled in their sockets to identify the room. Panic flared in their depths and Stefan, who hated seeing that flash in eyes he knew so well, moved a hand to Damon's cheek and turned his head, moving it so Damon's eyes could meet his own.

The panic was replaced with confusion and after a few seconds of Stefan stroking his dirty face recognition took over, a small smile of relief twisting his lips as his eyelids drooped closed. He moved his arm, that smile twisting into an awkward grimace as he dragged it closer to Stefan, much like he had back in the ware-house. Just the thought of that place, the bullets, Logan... it all made him want to throw up. His eyes fluttered closed, his face paling. He swallowed desperately to force bile back down his throat, back arching just ever so slightly as pain burned through him.

_Not again, please, please no... _

And suddenly, like an angel, Stefan's hand was wrapped around his own and he was pulled back against a warm, comforting chest. It didn't take the pain away, but fingers carding gently through his hair just the way he liked it made it just that much easier to ignore. He moaned softy, cursing himself for letting his pain slip out in that small sound, but not finding the strength to regret it as Stefan acted almost immediately, tightening his grip until it was close to being painful, but just not quite, and whispering softly in his ear. It was nonsense, but it grounded him and he couldn't be more grateful.

The pain lasted a number of minutes, too many to count, and Damon found himself whimpering in relief when it finally faded, unable to stop the involuntary sound. The burning was reduced to a dull thud and ache in his limbs. He blinked his eyes open, giving them a second to focus, before resting his gaze on his brother. A lopsided grin split his face, the usual sentiment of which ruined because he was still out of it, his head lolling on Stefan's shoulder.

Stefan looked down at him and smiled.

"Hey," he began softy, pressing his cheek against Damon's forehead.

"Hey," Damon croaked in response, stiffening slightly in Stefan's arms. "You... You gonna..." He paused and swallowed. "Get them out?"

Stefan didn't look down into his brothers eyes, he couldn't bring himself too, but nodded gently in Damon's hair. He felt protective, a feeling he wasn't quiet accustomed to where Damon was concerned, and felt a pang of guilt every time he thought of hurting his brother further.

"I'll get them out, and then we can clean you up, okay? You can drink a little once the wood is gone."

He felt Damon flinch and tightened his grip.

And after a second, Damon nodded against his chest. Stefan loosened his hold on Damon just slightly, using one hand to stroke Damon's face and card through his hair. When he felt his brother go completely limp, he moved so Damon's face rested in the crook of his neck and shifted his arm so he had better access to Damon's torso.

After pulling in a deep breath, he pressed his fingers into one of the many bleeding bullet holes littering Damon's chest.

Damon tensed immediately, a small, pitiful whine slipping past cracked lips.

"Shhh," Stefan soothed, keeping up his small ministrations. "You need to relax, just relax..."

A few more seconds of gentle coaxing saw Damon limp again, his weak fingers gripping Stefan's shirt. Stefan tightened his hold on Damon before reluctantly pushing his fingers into the flesh, finding the small piece of wood and removing it as swiftly as he could.

Damon whimpered once, his body succumbing to violent shaking yet again. Sweat beaded on his brow, his eyelids fluttered.

"I've got you," Stefan whispered. "I won't let you go."

~.~

"One more, okay? Just one more, shhh," Stefan soothed yet again, tears filling his eyes as Damon convulsed in his arms, crying and whimpering brokenly. He didn't know how many bullets he'd removed, he'd lost count after Damon started crying, maybe fifteen or so in. Then there was the shaking which grew progressively worse, the muffled moans and groans. The cries, morphing into screams as Damon begged for the end.

"One more, one more. I've got you, hush... hush..."

Damon's head fell back, sliding off Stefan's shoulder, his skin glinting with a thick layer of sweat. His eyes rolled up, back, eyelids fluttering again. The few, final tears slipped out from under his lashes as his eyes finally closed, face going slack.

There was another spasm, just one, and Damon lay still, the fingers that had once been gripping Stefan's shirt so desperately slick with sweat and slipping down, barely holding on. His face was pulled into what looked like a permanent cry, lines of pain marring Damon's once smooth features.

Stefan pulled bloody fingers out of Damon, throwing away the last, tiny piece of wood that had hurt his brother so horribly.

"Damon?" Stefan asked, almost begging him to open his eyes. He pushed back slick hair, not damp but thoroughly soaked, having stopped these little acts of comfort when Damon's thrashing had required a restraining hand. "Damon please, please. Just... please."

He held his brother's broken body in his arms, brushing his thumb across the soft skin under Damon's eye. He brought his face closer to his brother's, feeling the smallest of breaths slip from Damon's lips and brush his cheeks. His own tears fell on Damon's nose and he brought his mouth up to press a kiss into dark hair.

"It's over," he soothed, hoping Damon could hear him. Hoping that now the wood was gone he wouldn't hurt anymore. "I've got you, Damon. I won't... I won't let go."

As he rocked Damon in his arms, he repeated those words over and over, listening to his brother breathe and hoping, desperately hoping that the sound would never stop. That he'd see blue eyes looking into his own, a chance to make it all better.

He hoped Damon had the strength to hold on.

~.~

Damon screamed for what felt like the thousandth time, the pain of the bullets ripping through his abdomen excruciating. Logan laughed, the sound verging on psychotic, making Damon shiver in fear. His throat was burning from the constant abuse, his body writhing against the pain.

Another bullet pieced him, his lips pulling back in silent agony.

_You think Stefan will come for you? He hates you!_

Logan's boot connected savagely with his head, as if driving the point home. Damon curled in on himself, trying to shield his head and chest from the violent attacks.

_No one will ever save you, you're worthless! _

Damon's mind screamed stop, screamed for help even when he could no longer scream out loud. His gasps and croaks lost the little coherency they had left, replaced with broken cries, meanings lost in translation.

_I know your secret now, I'll take it from you! _

The ring was snatched off Damon's finger, and where there had once been darkness light flooded in, excruciating and almost foreign. Damon did scream now, his body burning, ripping, tearing. He could barely think beyond the pain. And then there were the words Logan left with him, repeating over and over...

_I have everything you are now, the one thing you kept. _

_You don't even have a brother anymore. _

_You're nothing. _

_Worthless. _

~.~

Stefan woke to quiet whimpering, feeling shaking arms wrap around his waist, a wet face pressing into his abdomen. He blinked his eyes open, looking down at the body curled up impossibly small in his lap. He stared in shock for a moment before willing his own arms to work, attempting to comfort the broken man he was cradling like a child.

"Damon? Damon, you're awake! Shush, why are you crying?"

When Stefan lifted Damon's head, smiling in relief at how Damon hadn't just died, his eyes met blue ones that glistened with tears, and his smile twisted into a frown.

"Tell me what's wrong?"

After hearing the small, concerned whisper escape Stefan's lips, Damon broke down. Sobs escaped his throated, forcing their way up and choking him. His eyes spilled over, his fisted hands shaking as they clawed at Stefan's back.

For what it's worth, Stefan was far from aware of Damon's latest ailment. That didn't stop him from comforting his brother, holding him tightly and rocking back and forward. It did fuel his concern, however, and before he could change his mind he slipped out from under his Damon, trying to ignore how he reached for him desperately. He sprinted to the basement, gripping a number of blood bags in his fingers, ones that were still sick with Damon's blood, and returned to the bed. He dropped the bags on the sheets and pulled Damon into his lap again, making his brother comfortable.

Long minutes were spend calming Damon, his voice soothing as he shushed him quietly.

When Damon finally stopped shaking, Stefan shifted them both so he was holding his brother against his chest. Thick hair brushed his neck as a heavy head rolled on his shoulder. He brushed Damon's cheek gently with his knuckles.

"Hey, hey, You feeling better?"

Damon hummed softly in approval, his teary eyes fluttering as Stefan continued his ministrations.

"Do you... want to talk to me about it?"

The mere thought of his nightmare made Damon shiver. Stefan felt this and tightened his grip, letting Damon bury his face in his neck. The older brother shook his head no just slightly and Stefan spent a second breathing deeply before letting it go.

He reached forward, trying not to disturb Damon, and gripped the closest blood bag. There was a small pop as he fixed the tube so it could be used as a straw before he brought it to his brother's lips.

Damon groaned at the smell of blood before shifting sluggishly, letting Stefan bring the straw to his mouth. He sucked the blood desperately, unable to stop the whimpers and moans of relief that escaped around the tubing as he did so. Stefan moved his fingers through Damon's hair the entire time, making encouraging noises whenever Damon faulted, exhaustion almost overpowering his need for blood.

Damon fell back after almost finishing the one bag, shaking his head when Stefan offered him more.

Stefan waited a while before presenting the next question, which he knew would require some energy on Damon's part.

"Do you want to get cleaned up?"

Damon breathed heavily for a few seconds before nodding against Stefan's neck again.

Stefan's fingers continued their stroking for a little before he slowly shifted and stood with Damon in his arms. He made his way into the bathroom, managing to lay a number of fluffy white towels on the floor without dropping his brother. He then laid his burden on the now padded flooring, still supporting Damon's back with an arm.

Cleaning Damon was a slow and tedious process. He began by removing Damon's shirt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers both for common decency and because there was no reason to remove them. He was pleased to find that the bullet holes had all closed, leaving only small scars and patches of bruised and tender flesh. Washing Damon down slowly was also vaguely painful for Stefan, who grimaced every time Damon whimpered, the sponge irritating the abused skin around each closed hole. He washed Damon's hair, wiped the rest of the blood off his body, and lifted him carefully as he slid fresh towels under them, ready to dry Damon off. Damon remained limp throughout the entire process, eyes closed, head on Stefan's shoulder, the small sounds he made all that Stefan heard from him. When Damon was dry, he left him for a second to clean himself off at lightning speed, picking up some clothes and changing Damon into them when he was done.

Because Damon was clean and the bed was not, Stefan took them to his own room, lying Damon carefully under the covers of his bed before returning to retrieve the blood bags he'd left behind.

Damon drank a little more at Stefan's insistence, letting his brother support him the entire time.

~.~

Logan smiled as he continued to work the crowd, discretely wiping the small amount of blood from Liz's latest head wound off his hand. It wasn't enough to kill her, only knock her out for a while as he planned his next course of action. He was still furious, desperate for answers, but he thought maybe a little revenge on the sheriff was in order. He eyed Caroline from across the hall.

_Should I? Shouldn't I?_

That plan was irrevocably thwarted when Alaric raced up to said blonde with Elena and Jenna in tow, sliding his mobile discreetly into his pocket as he did so. After a short conversation they were all heading off together at a suspiciously fast past pace. Logan listened as they left the school grounds.

So, one of the Salvatore's had phoned Alaric and anticipated his next move. Sneaky. Still, it did little more than redirect his anger. He could get his revenge on Liz later, now he had something else to take care of.

Walking out in to the pitch blackness, he reloaded his gun, the fresh wooden bullets clicking into place.

Logan began his walk to the Salvatore boarding house, his smug grin never slipping.

~.~

Stefan sat beside Damon's bed as his brother slept, patting a cold cloth over his brow. He had gone from being too cold to too hot, and although he wasn't feverish Damon was clearly uncomfortable. His breathing was accelerated, his skin slightly clammy. A small amount of sweat also beaded on his brow, something that Stefan wouldn't of worried about if Damon hadn't been wounded only hours before. Because he had, however, this made Stefan's own brow crease with concern, his movements overly gentle as he tended to Damon.

And suddenly, incredibly suddenly, Stefan heard a crack. It was soft, even to his vampire ears, but it was also artificial, like a branch snapping under a boot. Stefan stilled in his movements, the world suddenly becoming insanely silent as he listened.

The silence only lasted a moment however, broken by a pitiful whine that Damon omitted. He was obviously not pleased that Stefan had stopped soothing him, his head pushing up weakly into the cool cloth. It wasn't life threatening, Damon's ailment, but Stefan couldn't help but try and make Damon as comfortable as possible. He tried to hate him, but they were brothers. This Damon, he was the brother Stefan remembered. He was the human Damon Stefan couldn't hate. And even the human Damon could milk things, especially when he enjoyed the result. That being said, Stefan couldn't help but smile softly, continuing the ministration and brushing off the sound he heard as an animal or his own imagination.

After a moment Damon stirred again, seemingly disturbed by something invisible. He blinked his eyes open, his hand sliding above the covers towards Stefan. His eyes rolled around the room, glazed with some measure of fear.

"Damon?" Stefan asked softly, taking Damon's hand in his own. "What is it?"

Damon's eyes finally locked on something on the other side of the room, widening substantially as the realization hit.

Stefan turned and saw Logan standing in the doorway, his gun raised and expertly aimed at Damon.

~.~

Logan's problem? His incredible ability to both over estimate himself and underestimate those he should be steering clear of.

And that's only the beginning.

He was always obnoxious as a human. He was definitely a jerk. And what made it worse was his ridiculously, stupidly, thick-headedly large ego. He assumed that people would bow down before him because he was Logan Fell, Channel 9. He was him, and he thought he mattered.

And he did, for sure, but that ego of his only got bigger when he gained his vampiric nature. When he was human he could brush things off and come out on top simultaneously. When he turned, he couldn't turn down a fight. He wanted, needed more and because of said ego, he bit off more than he could chew. It wasn't like Damon's ego, one that was a defense mechanism carefully honed to protect himself against any form of emotion. No, this was idiocy. Plain, simple, mind-numbingly irritating.

But it did give Logan an excuse. A pretty good one, if you thought about it. He pulled the trigger, but Stefan was faster, knocking him off his feet and sending the round into the ceiling. His heart was ripped from his chest before he could let another thought pass though his head.

And Logan fell could finally say, as a ghost of course for corpses didn't frequently hold polite conversation, _I died because I thought I was faster than a Salvatore, a wounded one at that. Worse than wounded really, I died because I shot his brother. _

But technically, I was already dead.

Why he would want to say that, we'll never know.

And we'll never need to. Because to the world, he was Logan Fell, Channel 9.

To Stefan, he was gone.

~.~

When Stefan turned back to the bed, the first thing he saw was Damon's frozen form. His muscles were rigged, eyes riveted, never leaving Logan's now prone body.

Stefan advanced on him slowly, afraid of the blank look in his brother's eyes.

He moved into Damon's line of sight, still not gaining a reaction. When he called out to Damon softly, Stefan started as Damon lurched backward, a bruised back slapping the wooden bed frame. The shock seemed to cause him some pain and he fell forward, Stefan catching him with one arm before he hurt himself further.

Damon didn't cry, didn't make a sound, but his body shook harder than Stefan could believe.

And no matter what Stefan said or did, the shaking wouldn't stop. He held Damon close, continued the ministrations he knew Damon enjoyed. He patted his forehead with the cloth again, even though Damon seemed colder than normal, much the opposite of before. He abandoned that idea fairly quickly, instead trying an extra blanket and a tighter hold, bringing Damon back against his chest.

He tried everything, Damon didn't say a word. Damon didn't close his eyes either, and didn't seem to have any intention of falling asleep. The blank look remained, never faltering, Damon's blue eyes horribly dull.

Hours passed. The shaking continued.

And Stefan held him as morning came, the first few rays of light bringing the beginnings of Damon's uneasy sleep.

~.~

_Stefan and Damon were running, their feet slipping in the thick mud as heavy rain slammed into them from above. It was the middle of the night, thunder and listening cracking overhead, and Damon may or may not have been just slightly drunk. He had held back, but he wasn't completely sober, and Stefan just seemed to be high on excitement. Or at least, that was before they were sprinted through the harsh weather, attempted to reach home before their father noticed their absence. _

_Damon was barely aware of Stefan's presence, he couldn't see two feet in front of him, but he kept a strong grip on an invisible hand in the hopes of remaining with his brother. He saw a light up ahead, vaguely cutting through the darkness. The house was close. They'd be home soon. _

_Just as Damon let the thought cross his mind, he slipped. His hand was wrenched from Stefan's as he fell, his body falling and hitting the ground, rolling in the mud until Damon couldn't tell up from down. He felt like he was drowning, thick wetness suffocating him, a sea of black with no way out. He tried to yell but something disgusting filled his mouth and he coughed desperately. _

_He didn't know how long he lay there, fear twisting his stomach and freezing his insides. He tried to thrash, unable to move under the heavy blanket. His mind screamed at him, the blackness swallowing him completely. _

_Just as even the blackness began to fade, Damon slipping into unconsciousness, a rough hand gripped his arm and pulled him to the surface. He gulped in huge masses of air, finally soothing his aching lungs. He was caught before he fell and dragged though the same terrain again. _

_After a few minutes that passed in a blur, he collapsed against what felt like marble steps, another body strewn across his own. Then the pressure from that body weakened and gentle fingers swiped the caked mud from his eyes. _

_He blinked them open, a blurry figure focusing until he was looking up at his smiling little brother. _

_"Damon, we made it! We have to get clean before Father returns..." _

_Damon smiled back, letting his Stefan pull him to his feet and sneaking around to the slaves entrance, stripping there so as not to get mud all over the house._

_They slept in the same room that night, spending a period of time laughing at their latest achievement like the brothers they were. _

_And as Stefan slipped into sleep, Damon couldn't stop thinking about how that darkness suffocated him, how without Stefan he was sure he would've died. They hadn't mentioned it, but Damon felt like he should and so he whispered, thank you. _

_Stefan heard and chuckled softly in his sleepiness, aware of what Damon was referencing._

_"We're brothers, I'll always find you."_

_Damon believed him, still does, because thats just it; they're brothers._

_And that is what brothers do. _

~.~

"Stef?" Damon whispered, his voice surprisingly strong despite recent events. Stefan was still holding him tightly, having fallen asleep only a little while after Damon did.

He stirred at the sound of Damon's voice, subconsciously tightening his grip as he woke.

"Mmm? Yeah?"

"...you definitely killed him, right? Didn't go all, come and eat bunnies with me and we can be new BFFs instead?"

Stefan chuckled, the sound softly rumbling through his chest.

"His heart is still decorating the floor. My floor, to be specific."

A small smile twisted Damon's lips, half humor half relief.

"I'll put it in a jar then... and poke it every once in a while. Or light it on fire."

Smiling wildly at his brother's antics, Stefan pulled Damon closer to him, playing with a strand of his hair.

"...or, I don't know, we could just bury him and move on? Unless that's too crazy for you."

"Completely insane, Stef, what where you thinking? Practicality? You've lost your mind!"

They stayed silent for a while, both completely content in each others arms.

"Stef?"

"Yes Damon?"

"...thank you."

"You're very welcome."

~.~

**FIN**


End file.
